Under the Moonlight
by GeminiGemelo
Summary: Sarafina loved Scar. But you know, the funny thing about love - its single little foible - is how easily it can corrupt into hatred. Pregnant with cubs and awaiting the next stage of her life, all it took was one little bump before everything came crashing down into so many irreparably broken pieces... [ contains Sarafina/OC lime ]


_**A/N:**_

_Haven't done much with writing lately, especially one-shots, but it was nice to get back into the swing of things with this short little piece. It's written for the 29th Writing Contest on MLK... yeah, I actually got one in this time. :3 Hehe._

_Sarafina's an underdeveloped character. So I chose to write about her instead of Mufasa/Scar's parents or what would've happened if Kiara found Nuka while exploring (although both interested me also, you can only do so much, y'know?)._

_I will say, though, that this one got... well, a little out of hand. Not that I mind, but... __I think you'll see what I mean when you read, since it explores some themes that I haven't really touched too much. It's rated T, but it's a high-T, y'know? Like one baby step below an M._

_(Calling it a Sprite fic for the lemon-limes, that seems like an apt term for it c;)._

_Also, don't maul me for my portrayal of Sarafina, k? K. Thanks. _

* * *

Under the moonlight, she sat. She waited.

A gentle breeze parted the fur on her face, but she paid it no mind. The lioness simply lay there, unblinking, unmoving, as seemingly impartial as a statue.

The blood that littered the ground around her, staining the grasses, wetting the flowers with crimson showers, slicking the ground until it was awash with reflected light… it told a different story. A story of sorrow, of loss. But not of death.

No. Not of death. Of life. New life. She stroked it, absently, with her tongue, cleaning the newborn cubs of the scent of birth, cleaning them of the stickiness that marked them as the newest entrants into the world.

The world that had turned its back on her. And birthed, of course, from the _lion_ who had turned his back on her.

She remembered what he had said. Every word was like a pinprick lodged firmly in her mind. Small, infuriating little syllables all banded together, ravenous like army ants, as passively destructive as termites…

After all this, she couldn't believe the nerve he had, to dare to do that to her. After all the gestures, after all the exchanging of gifts, the mutual professions of love… it was all moot now. Gone. Destroyed. _Ravaged. _And for what?

That temptress. The slick siren, the cunning maiden. She took a back seat to that… that… _whelp._

Veins of anger, bloody and vengeful, took a hold inside like roots, growing and changing and adapting. It was a new hatred, one borne of a shattered love. A hatred so strong that it could only come from a broken heart. And even then, it was still so ineffable, so hard for her to put to words… there was simply the feeling, deep and yawning like an abyss, churning out its tormenting emotions as they continuously welled up and overflowed the bounds of the corporeal shell she lived in. There was only the pain. And that was all.

Even the birth of her offspring—hers, but also his—paled in comparison to how distraught she felt inside. And when she licked those cubs, when she saw their small, fully-formed bodies with those sleek brown pelts, with those scrunched eyes that were no doubt tinged a verdant, envious shade, and with those sparse black tufts crowning their heads and gracing their tails, she was reminded of their father.

Their. _Father_.

_You told me you loved me… is this how you show it… to _cheat _on me?_

It was her own voice saying it, days before, as her belly swayed, heavily pregnant. Curved and distended with evidence of their attachment. They'd mated. They were supposed to be together. 'I'll love you forever' was supposed to apply for, well… _forever_. But it would never be. Not now. She couldn't forgive him. And she couldn't forgive _her_. The harpy. The snake. Not for this. It'd never be the same. Their bond was supposed to be _special_, it was supposed to be theirs and _theirs _alone. But that was a lie.

She felt her anger grow as her tongue stroked her little children, and thus her licking was harsh, as it abraded hair from the napes of her charges. The gesture, one that most would, in her shoes, have construed and intended as gentle and motherly, was hurting them, and she didn't even know. Nor would she have cared. They mewled and struggled, little writhing serpents, little copy-cats of their father. They, too, would lie, wouldn't they? They, too, were hoping to get away, secretly, weren't they?

There was a prick of rage, of long-kept frustration. She wasn't sure why, but it was transferred onto those cubs. Those two little twins, both clones of the lion she had adored… and now _despised._

The mews of pain that ensued when she put down her paw, claws out, were not simple mews of pain. They were echoes. She could have sworn she heard them, tickling the inside of her ear, worming their way into the conscious part of her brain until all she could think, all she could see, all she could _feel…_ was him.

_Mew… mew…_

_ Let me explain, Sarafina, I can tell you why I was with Zira…_

_ No… I've had _enough _of your lies, _Scar!

_Mew…_

_But my love, please…_

She felt that purring voice, once so soft and seductive. But now she knew. The true nature of the cunning wretch that was her former intended. She felt her claws dig into flesh, she felt the squeals beneath her. They weren't his. But she imagined that they were.

_"Stop it_," she spoke, her voice warped with the tinges of a growl, the remnants of her grief, her _anger_… "stop it, damn you!"

More squeals. She kneaded her claws. She heard their cries. But the lioness, up until then so tender, so excited about having their children, so believing when he told her he was leaving to go hunting, that he had had nothing to do with that strange lioness who claimed she loved him… she was torn apart by her emotions, she was now only a husk of her normal self. Her usual empathy was gone. She felt nothing for her cubs. And neither did their father, who didn't even know that they existed…

… Not that he ever would, either.

_MRAWWW, MRAWWW!_

She wasn't sure what she was doing. In a sudden flash, in the spur of the moment, she shifted forwards, smothering the babes that had been nestling themselves into the fur upon her forearms underneath her heaving chest—the one that buckled just for breath, slick with sweat and barely covering her pounding heart.

The last thing they heard was that heartbeat. The pulse of the heart that would never love them. They mewed some more, they cried in pain… she felt their kicks, the pushing of their little limbs as they resisted their fates, as they fought like their father against their righteous _punishment…_

They were entrapped in the prison of fur around them. Their writhing slowed, and then, after several moments, it stopped altogether. Their cries became silent. Their warm bodies went limp. The cubs stopped moving, and then, without fanfare, and without anyone else knowing of their existence, they died. Softly and silently. Only the buzzards would care about their demise… and even then, those feelings were strictly in recognition and appreciation of the scarce meat covering their slight, tiny bones. There would be no mourning for their death. And even Sarafina, in as much stress as she was, did not consider it a loss.

It was a gain. A battle won over the would-have-been lover that had made her suffer so. It was payback, vengeance in its most twisted form… for she couldn't kill him, as much as she would have liked. But she could kill those that lived in his image.

Unfortunately, though, her motivation, the reason she had smothered her own cubs… it didn't take into account the fact that they were her offspring too, that they shared her flesh and blood. But alas, a part of her didn't care. It was due justice, for the betrayal wrought by her other half.

In the wake of her tragedy, in the midst of her distress, she had lost. And here, in the midst of the savannah, in the form of two dead children birthed from her own loins… she had given up a part of herself. Not only physically, but mentally, _emotionally_… and there was no telling if she could ever win it back again.

* * *

Five moons passed. Or was it six? She couldn't be sure—even time was slow to dull the pain. What had once been red-hot, burning, ravaging, tearing… it wasn't flame-like anymore, but it was still like a glowing ember lodged under her foot. It gave her a constant, dull throbbing, interspersed with sharp bursts of hurt. She couldn't forget. But even if she did, that missing piece of her was, she'd been convinced, forever to be missing.

She'd ignored it, though, as she pressed herself into his fur, as she drew in more of his scent in every breath, as she uttered his name in quiet whispers that quickly faded into the breeze beneath the cold, milky stars.

_Laini… Laini…_

Those pale paws caressed her back, feeling her tenderly, suavely, in exactly the right places. She sensed the tips of his padded digits stroke the dip between her shoulder blades. He knew—exactly, with a practically clairvoyant knowledge—where she liked to be touched the most. Gracefully the lioness' head came rotating back, the rumbling of many successive purrs rolling through her throat as she smiled delicately, the edges of her teeth exposed amidst soft moans of pleasure.

For alas, that was what this lion was for. _Pleasure._

The terms had been made clear upon their first encounter, a meeting that had, if anything, been a twist of fate. She needed someone—someone to replace the gap, the chunk that had been torn out of her.

He'd had a mate at home. Cubs. But none of that was of importance.

We won't be mates, she'd said. Nobody will know. It will just be _us._

That way there was no way to be hurt again. Emotionally, there was no investment from either of them. But physically, sensually… they needed each other. _Badly._

Once he'd taken the bait, once they'd gone on with that first night… now it was a routine. Every full moon they would meet, under the light of the heavens, to join together in a physical embrace. It was almost like a dance, a loving gesture that wove them together… but any true love was short-lived and gone by the rising of the sun.

Not that she minded. The full moon reminded her of that other night, of her _other _lover… she was reminded of the disapproving lionesses, those that said she should stay with him, that he was a prince, that she'd been a good girl, that she needed to join with the lion she'd said she would mate.

But any thought of that now made her lips crease in a smile. It was her way of rebelling, of breaking free. The pleasant young lioness was gone, replaced with a shadow. A temptress whose wiles matched those of Zira, the one who had stolen away her happiness. And now she understood. She felt empowered, free. And most of all, she did… _not_… need… _him._

She would no longer be a princess. But here, in the middle of the savannah with this similarly broken lion from another pride, she still felt like one.

"_Laini, my dear," _she spoke such ephemeral words, words tainted with the appearance of love and yet still so empty in their meaning. Not that he minded. He simply played along with the charade. They both did. It was the exact same play as before, only with different actors. She would not be the victim this time.

_"Take me."_

Her tongue stroked his cheek. She felt the muscles in his face tense, pulling his lips into a soft, sensual grin. There was a brushing of fur, a meeting of flanks together. Their stomachs rubbed, her hips rotated out for him as she gazed upon his sweat-slicked head. A few locks of brown mane crested his stubborn visage, and those determined emerald eyes… they were locked into a fiery expression, one that aptly reflected his libido, the focused power held by his burly frame.

Her face was contorted, screwed into a shape that reflected both pleasure and pain. Her soft green irises hardened, a flicker being borne into them as she exerted herself, as they pressed themselves together in the darkness. Grimaces. Moans. The sweet scent of mating as it filled the air and became all she could feel. A strong feeling that penetrated her every pore, that wormed its way through her every orifice, until all she could feel, all she could think, all she could _see_… was him.

The waves of pleasure continued. She allowed his advances. Her paws caressed his strong shoulders, rounded with muscle, and her tongue found the back of his ear as she continued licking any spot on him she could reach, much to his satisfaction…

But alas, it was not to be for much longer. Much too soon for their liking, the moon was fading and disappearing, giving way to the brilliance of a golden dawn. Already the faintest rays of sunlight were filtering to the east, painting heaven's canvas with their glow, tinting the sky just a few shades lighter.

Sunrise was coming soon. And when it did, their time would have to end.

Their nights of guilty pleasure could not last forever.

* * *

"Momma, where're we going?"

"… Nowhere, Nala. I just need to, need you to… meet someone."

"Is it someone special?"

She chuckled awkwardly, though her features were all but devoid of humor. In fact, they seemed more… forlorn… The full moon shone upon the grasses, as it did when she met him, as it did when her cub was born.

Sarafina hadn't seen Laini since she'd told him she was pregnant. With his cub. But she still went every month, despite knowing that he was likely gone forever. Knowing that he had likely become too afraid once he realized that there was actual evidence of their attachment, that somebody else could find out.

Not that she blamed him. There wasn't anger, like there had been for Scar. Her opinions of love were not hot and vengeful. There was only a sorrow, a sadness… deep and numbing, an apt incarnation of her yearning.

She realized that, in a strange way, she loved him. She shouldn't have, but she did. And thus she'd kept her cub—her third cub—to remind her of him. In that way, he was never truly gone.

In a way, though, she wasn't sure why she'd brought Nala. She knew he wouldn't come. But perhaps… well… she'd wanted something. Wanted her to know the truth of her parentage. Wanted her to know that her father was not Scar, as the pride had raised her to believe.

Sarafina had, indeed, seen and felt the disapproval of the pride. For Scar was a male, and he was a prince. She was just a lowly lioness. They took his side, they censured her for leaving him. They blamed her until her anger faded, citing that they had mated and, thus, were not allowed by law to split apart. And then, finally, she'd accepted him out of sheer desperation, afraid she had no other choice.

And it was true. She didn't. She _had _to take him, even though she could see his true colors. Even though he no longer bothered to hide the fact that he was truly in love with Zira, who would soon bear his cubs. She was barely noticed, barely loved by him…

But she did, at least, have Nala. She had proof, in her eyes at least, that she'd beaten him, that she'd refused to submit to the norms of society. Even if she took the secret to her grave, at least she knew that, before she was forced to become the princess of someone she no longer loved, and was made to have his descendants, and keep him happy, she had been her own being, her own entity. She had gone against the grain and made something for herself.

She needed love. She was starved, lost, like a spurned puppy. And with Laini gone, well… all she had left was Nala to give it to her. And even then, her daughter would never be able to fulfill her the way that _Laini_, or indeed any other male, could have.

The lioness thought back to the cubs she'd smothered. The story she'd come up with to explain their absence. She'd used it to sate her daughter's many curious questions… and Scar's as well.

_I miscarried. See, here they are?_

_ … They have claw marks, Sara._

She growled at the thought of his voice, so smooth and suave, and yet questioning her every move, studying her with an eagle's eye, intensely boring down on her. The lioness did not want to know what would happen if he did not like her answers, nor did she bother to find out. So she lied. A lie for a lie, after all.

_We were attacked. Some hungry hyena tried to eat them._

A glint in his eye. He didn't fully believe her. But he didn't press the issue farther.

_Well, I suppose we always have… _next time_… my sweet Sarafina… Just _do _try harder, will you?_

She shuddered. The tip of his tail, coarse and yet sleek, like a raven's plumage, touched her sensitive flank. Her hackles bristled, but she remained calm, trying to bridle her fury.

Here and now, in this savannah, she was hoping for the arrival of her mate—her true mate, Nala's true father. The cub was old enough to know, old enough to keep the secret… no longer did her mother want her to think that such a cruel persona as Scar truly was her father.

But still she remembered. The pride. How they asked. How _he _asked.

_Is she my cub, Sarafina? Is she mine?_

_ … Why would you ask such a thing?_

She'd faked offense, as any decent mate would have. But somewhere deep inside, he knew. He hadn't been faithful, and thus she had not been, either.

_Sarafina… do not lie to me…_

She grimaced in recollection of it. Her daughter trotted in place by her side, anticipating, as she did, the appearance of someone very special. This was it, the clearing they always met at.

But it was merely empty, barren space. There was no lion here, nor was there trace of one.

The lioness, broken and lost, heaved a sigh. She was hurt, but she couldn't blame him. He, too, was pulled away by thoughts of those around him. His passions had been cooled by a sense of decency, of complacency. As hers had been.

"Momma, who's gonna meet us here?"

"… Nobody, Nala. Just… just your father…"

"But isn't Scar my father?"

It was an innocent question. But it reminded her of the past. Of that lion's questioning, of his brutal and demanding eyes boring into her. She had to make a choice. It wasn't much of one, but it was a choice. And so, just as she had done that day with Scar, she looked her daughter in the eyes—eyes that were green, as his were. She looked down, and saw not her offspring… but the so-called mate she had at home, the embodiment of her fear, of her guilt. It was not her choice to make, unless she wanted to risk shame, and hurt, and the death of her daughter…

_Is that my cub?_

"… Momma… answer me… isn't he my father?"

_Sarafina…?_

"Mom?"

_ "Yes, _dear."

Her words were an exact echo of the ones she'd said after Nala's birth. Now, officially, she had submitted. She'd given up her thoughts of love for more important responsibilities. Thus she turned away and went home…

… And she never returned to the only clearing where she'd ever truly felt loved.

* * *

_R&R & F&F, my lovelies.~ And enjoy my screwed-up canonness (well, maybe not screwed up, I guess kinda IC). _

_Oh, and for reference, here's the summary of the head-canon that went into the making of this fic. In case it wasn't clear._

_Sarafina loves Scar and is pregnant by him. She makes an oath to marry him. But Scar cheats on her with Zira. Later, Sarafina gives birth to nameless twins and kills them, lying to Scar about their death. He wants her back but she rejects him. The pride threatens to shame her, though, if she doesn't keep her promise. She does. In payback, she goes off in secret to this other male, Laini. She becomes pregnant by him, which causes him to leave because he has his own family. She births Nala. Scar asks whose cub it is and Sarafina says it is his so he won't kill her new daughter. She is treated poorly by him until his reign. When he is king, however, he finally changes the rules, taking Zira as his official mate and disbanding Sarafina. She then takes a new mate in a handsome young lion and births Mheetu, proceeding to tell Nala that Scar is not her father when she is finally old enough to understand._

_And yeah, that's the end, I guess. c:_

_~Twin _


End file.
